


Cullen x Amelie Prompt Collection

by inquisitorsmabari



Series: Prompt Collections [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, One Shot Collection, Smooching, Smut, prompts, see individual chapter warnings, some nsfw
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-13
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-03-17 21:00:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 11,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13667181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inquisitorsmabari/pseuds/inquisitorsmabari
Summary: I realised I've written so many of these and really wanted there to be an easy way (easier than Tumblr anyway) for everyone to read them. All of these are Cullen x Amelie and take place throughout the game. Any that are nsfw or smutty will have warnings on that chapter.





	1. Do you Wish Things had Turned out Differently?

Many of the effects of the council were obvious: the nightmares, the pain, the fleeting images of Qunari and gatlock fire which flickered in the corner of her eyes at the sound of a slamming door or the clatter of a dropped sword on hard stone. But there were others that weren't so obvious, ones which lingered in the back of her mind until something brought them forward.

This was one of them.

She watched Cullen with love, at first, just as she always did. Watching his smile, his laugh, the kindness in his eyes and in his gestures as his family rushed around him with empty plates, piles of rubbish, toys for their children. Watching him help his sister with the dishes, drying them off with a towel and placing them haphazardly around the kitchen, moving them to their correct places at Mia’s behest. Watching him turn to his nephew with an enthusiastic smile after a gentle pull on his trousers, before joining him at his new chess set, a fine Satinalia present from his parents.

It wasn't often she saw him be so happy, so free. With her, he was always so much more relaxed, his smile was more regular, less forced, and his laugh was as pure as the finest crystal. But here, he was like a new person completely. He seemed so natural here, laughing with his siblings, playing chess with his nephew, ruffling the curls on his small head when he supposedly won his victory. This was a Cullen even she didn't know, this was him without the burdens of war.

She smiled, but her smile was thin, carrying her through the evening and into the night as the children fell asleep on their parents laps, and one by one they peeled off to their rooms to drift into the Fade. She smiled still as they went to their own room, with a quick goodnight to those who remained. But then her smile must have slipped, perhaps only for a second but, apparently, it was enough for him to notice.

“What's wrong?” He asked her as he undressed, peeling off his clothes before climbing beneath the covers whilst she stood watching him, quickly busying herself with the arduous process of unfastening her clothes.

“It's nothing,” She said, smiling at him briefly before returning to her fumbling.

“Sorry, let me help,” He said hurriedly, pulling himself up and gesturing for her to sit down in front of him. “Are you sure it's nothing?” He asked as he began to peel away her clothes, the two of them sitting in silence for some time before a sigh escaped her lips.

“Do you ever wish things had happened differently?” She asked him, her eyes dropping to stare at the white covers, her hands playing with a loose thread. 

“Differently?” He queried, pausing for a second with her clothes half off of her shoulders, before resuming slowly.

“Well,” She began slowly. “If I hadn't lost my hand…”

“You know I don't care about that,” He told her firmly, his eyes locking onto hers as she sat, now almost completely naked in front of him as he finished ridding her of her clothes.

“What if we'd never gone?” She asked him with more force, her voice rising in volume. “I'd have an arm and I wouldn't have nightmares or…”

“We didn't have a choice,” He interrupted.

“What if I'd disbanded the Inquisition?” She blurted out, her voice becoming shrill as she fought back the wave of despair that threatened to overwhelm her.

“Why would that matter?” He asked, using his hand to raise her chin, forcing her to look him in the eye and meet his piercing gaze. 

“Because we could have had this,” She said, quieter this time. “We could have found a place like this, away from everywhere. We could have cooked together whilst the sun set over the plush green fields, or just sat and whiled away the days with a book and an open fire.”

“That would be boring,” He said bluntly. “You know we would get bored with no work to do.” He told her as he received a mildly offended look

“Alright then,” She began once again. “We could have invited them all over for Satinalia just like they did for us, and all their kids could play with out own whilst our dopey dog chased birds and scavenged for leftover food.” At that, Leo let out a whine, as if he knew she was talking about him, except a twitching ear told her that he was dreaming as he slept at the bottom of their bed.

“We can still do that,” He told her, grabbing her hand and enclosing it in his own. “Except, you know, it would be in a cold keep filled with soldiers and drunk servants and...well…” He trailed off, a smile forming on his face. “Maybe that's a terrible idea.”

“Really terrible,” She said with a laugh, a laugh which soon became a ghost of itself, trailing off into silence almost as soon as it was conceived.

“No, I don't wish things had happened differently,” He said after a moment of heavy silence, his voice quiet but sincere. “I think this is perfect, whatever happens.”

“Whatever happens?” She asked, looking at him with eyes filled with hope.

“Whatever happens.” He sounded so sure, so sincere, that she believed it, at least for that night, her fears easing until she drifted into a deep sleep in the safety of his arms.


	2. Don't Leave me Behind

Had she ever been so sick?

Her body ached as if a thousand Qunari had trampled all over it. Her head throbbed, pounding with the intensity if a war drum. Her throat was dry, scratchy, her nose red and runny, her eyes struggling to open as the sunlight assaulted her vision.

And yet still there was work to do. She was visited by Josephine, with queries, suggestions, and paperwork, lovingly delivered to her bedside. She was visited by Leliana, who brought news of her scouts and a note from Sera which simply read ‘I’d come to see you but eeww’. Then she was visited by Cullen, who would normally make her smile with his warming presence but, today, she did not need to hear a million reports from the Western Approach, not when her throat felt as dry as the desert sands.

So she just leaned back against the mountain of pillows she had collected on her bed and let him talk and talk and talk whilst she drifted between the land of the living and the dead, each stifled cough sending a shooting pain through her head.

“Inquisitor?” He asked, pulling her back into reality and forcing her to turn her attention to him. He looked concerned, his eyes narrow and his lips pursed in a thin line, as he lowered his reports, placing them on the floor at his feet.

“Yes, right,” She said quickly, before another bout of coughing overtook her. “You were saying?”

“I’ll come back tomorrow,” He said with a sigh, before reaching over to squeeze her hand which rested on top of the bed covers. “You need rest.”

“No!” She cried, as he began to rise off of the bed. “Don’t leave me behind!”

“Leave you behind?” He asked, turning to look at her led in bed, nose red, eyes watering, hair tangled around her shoulders, before letting out a gentle laugh. 

“Just stay with me for a moment,” She asked quietly, fighting against the dryness in her throat. “Please?”

“Of course,” He said with a sigh, sitting himself back down on the bed except, this time, he was next to her, his arm enveloping her with his warmth as her head came to rest upon his chest, her breathing heavy and laboured as she inhaled his familiar musky scent. Her eyes fluttered to a close just as she felt his soft lips press against her forehead, her body relaxing into his embrace as his fingers played with the tangles in her hair, and soon she fell into a blissful sleep where her deadly illness could no longer reach her.


	3. Have you seen the...

The heat was unbearable, crushing down on her like a weight upon her shoulders as her face shone with beads of sweat. Beneath her fingers, the parchment was damp, the ink smudging beneath sweat covered skin, the quill slipping from her grasp. She pushed through, filling in paperwork slowly and carefully, but her mind had become clouded with an impenetrable fog. She sat back for a moment, her eyes closing in an effort to clear the pounding in her head, shutting out the fierce rays of sunlight which entered the opened windows and shone brilliantly before her eyes. 

She had work to do, important work, but what she needed right now, was a break. She dragged herself away from her desk and out of her room, revelling in the breeze which filled the stairwell as she descended towards great hall, stopping for an instant by the large hole which she was very glad no one had filled in. But, thankfully, she found herself outside soon enough, standing atop the large stone stairway overlooking the courtyard, where people seemed to be sparring. Atop the stairs there was the hint of a gentle breeze, which tickled the skin on her face and eased the throbbing pain behind her temples. The fog was lifting.

“Inquisitor?” Josephine, who had apparently been ascending the steps in front of her, was now standing in front of her looking bemused. “Is everything ok? Did you need something?”

“Oh right, yes,” She said quickly, her mind reeling as she tried to think of something, anything, that would explain her escape from work, her eyes darting around the keep as she looked eagerly for inspiration. “Have you seen the... _oh…_ ”

Her eyes had fallen upon the courtyard, the men sparring in the afternoon sun, metal clanging upon metal as sword hit shield. They were shirtless, sweat gleaming upon their suntouched skin, muscles contracting with each swing of the sword. Such strength, such elegance, such grace, exhibited in such a brutal manner, like a dance turned deadly. One of them had his back to her, his face hidden, but she knew who he was. She could hear his voice ring clear even against the clamour of training swords and the shouts of onlookers. She could hear his laugh as he bested his opponent, picked him up off the ground with a heave of a strong arm, and gave him an affectionate grasp of the shoulder. And she could see the ghost of his smile as he turned around, finally, and spotted her staring down at him from above. He looked dazed, shaken, but proud, as his chest rose and fell with each heavy intake of breath, before he broke out in a quick smile, a smile just for her.

“Inquisitor?” Josephine asked, pulling her from her moment of bliss and bringing her back to reality with a crash. “What were you saying?” She asked as she turned to her with reluctance, a silent sigh escaping her lips.

“Sorry,” She said quietly. “It’s the heat, it’s…”

“Distracting?” Josephine asked with a sly smile, her brown eyes twinkling behind a hooded gaze.

“Yea, distracting,” She agreed. “I just wanted to know if you’d seen the reports Leliana said she’d give me on the palace ball. So I’m properly prepared for it.”

“I’ll see if she’s got them,” She told her, her voice smooth and her smile sweet. “Just, don’t get too distracted, we have work to do.” She said with a wink, before entering the great hall.

As soon as she had gone, her gaze fell on the courtyard once more where, to her displeasure, the sparring had stopped, and Cullen was nowhere to be seen.


	4. Distracting Kiss

They were both as bad as each other.

How many times had she walked in to Cullen’s office and found him focused so intently on his work that he hadn’t even looked up at the sound of the door slamming shut behind her? How many times had she pouted and scrunched her face at the man in front of her whose face she couldn’t even see? How many times had she marched over to him and snaked her arms around his shoulders, or run her hands through his golden hair and kissed the top of his head as all the burdens of his work lifted from his shoulders?

It was a lot. She would admit that she could be the worst at taking his attention away from the work that often she herself had placed on him. But work was for the waking hours, when Skyhold sang with the voices of their followers and shone under the light of the sun. That’s what she would tell him.

So, she shouldn’t be surprised that the day she found herself working long past the setting of the sun, would be the day that she would get her penance. Her head was throbbing, her eyes straining from the effort of sifting through the mountain of reports which had built up in her absence. But she didn’t stop, couldn’t stop, not until she was done.

Except Cullen had other ideas. She never heard him enter either, she only felt his arms wrap themselves around her waist, his nose brushing against her neck, his breath on her skin. She froze. 

“What are you doing?” She asked.

“Distracting you,” He replied, whispering against her skin, before planting a flurry of light, gentle kisses in a trail down her neck which sent chills through her body and made her hair stand on edge.

“I need to finish this,” 

“I thought work was for the waking hours?” He asked, and she couldn’t help but smile against her will when she heard her own words used against her. They really were both as bad as each other. How they ever got any work done when they had no choice but to live and breathe so close to one another, she would never know. 

She stood up and turned to face him, hoping to tell him to wait, just five minutes perhaps, just so that she could finish this one report. But she had hardly opened her mouth when she was met with his, any opposition from her washing away as his lips caressed hers with such tenderness, such softness, that she found herself thinking of nothing else, not even the work she had been so desperate to finish.

The kiss ended abruptly, but he didn’t move away, their noses still making contact. But she could see his lips spreading in to a triumphant smile as he stood over her, his eyes glistening with victory as he whispered two words in the silence between them.

“I win.”


	5. I came to say goodbye

“I came to say goodbye,”

She stood in the doorway to his office, clothed already in her white armour with her staff attached to her back, her hair pulled neatly into a ponytail with wisps of burnt red billowing about her face. She looked so still, serene, yet her face was steely, stern, a mask of composure which hid her nerves from the outside world.

“Goodbye?” He questioned, rising up from his chair behind the great wooden desk and moving towards her, slowly, carefully, approaching her like one would approach a nervous animal. She remained almost still, moving only to close the door behind her, and take one small step further into his office.

“We’re riding out at sundown,” She told him, her gaze dropping to stare at the stone floor. 

“To face Corypheus?” He asked, already knowing the answer.

“Yeah,” She said. He had reached her now, standing over her as she continued to stare at the floor, refusing to meet his gaze even as he placed a hand upon her cheek, stroking the soft skin with his rough, battleworn hands.

“You’ll come back,” He told her, his voice sure and steady despite the doubt in his mind that had festered these last few months. All the time they had spent together, he had wondered if this job would be the death of her, whether he was making a mistake by attaching himself too desperately to a woman on borrowed time. But these thoughts were always pushed to the back of his mind and whenever he saw her, he forgot instantly, her presence easing his troubled mind until she left him once again.

“What if I don’t?” She asked him, finally lifting her eyes to look into his, where he saw that tears had begun to form, like morning dew upon a field of green. He only sighed, wiping away the single tear that had dared to fall down her cheek with a quick brush of his thumb.

“You will,” He said with certainty. “You always do.” She shocked him then with a gentle laugh that could have almost been a sigh, her lips breaking into a shy, uncertain smile, her face softening beneath his palm.

“I guess I’ve already cheated death, what...twice?” She said, smiling and taking his other hand within her own, threading her fingers through his with her gentle, warm touch. “Maybe three.”

“It would take a lot to finish you off,” He told her, his own lips breaking into a smile to mirror her own. 

“But just in case,” She said, her eyes dropping down to stare at the floor once again. “I wanted to come and see you again. Just so I can remember what you look like, and smell like,” She mused, her voice quiet and soft, her hand bringing his up to her face where she buried her face into his skin, her breath warm against his cold fingers. “I just wanted to savour everything about you before…”

He moved closer, his hand moving to the back of her head as their noses touched ever so slightly, the faintest brush of skin against skin closing the gap between them. They stayed still for seconds, their breath mingling between them as her floral scent filled his nostrils, overwhelming his senses and filling his head with thought of comfort, happiness, a sense of safety and a sense of belonging, as if, when she was here, he was complete.

The was no verbal cue, hardly even a physical one, instead they just found themselves with their lips together in a kiss which started out so soft and gentle, a smooth, careful brush of familiar skin upon familiar skin. But then they stopped, breathed, stared at the other for a single second, waiting, watching, and then they kissed again. But it was stronger, not with less care, but with more fire, more passion, more want, the two locked together in one final dance before the closing act. 

She had been right, she may never come back. He could hear the portcullis raise, rush to the gates of Skyhold, and see nothing but a party of mourners and a woman who was once his lover, still and lifeless in the arms of someone else. But he had been right too, she had always come back, always found herself in his arms once again despite the odds being stacked against her. She had a charmed life, a blessed life, and he had to believe that her story wasn’t over.

“Amy?” He asked as he pulled away from their kiss with some reluctance.

“Yes?” She asked with a sigh.

“Just in case,” He said, pulling himself forward to whisper in her ear. “Do you think we should make the most of this time together?”

“Cullen,” She said with an exasperated laugh, giggling as he began to kiss the skin below her ear, leaving a trail down towards her neck. “What do you think I came here for?”

“To say goodbye,” He said. “Now get up that ladder, Inquisitor,”

“Yes, Commander,”


	6. This is...exactly what it looks like (NSFW)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warning for explicit sexual content

In the golden light of the setting sun, his eyes were hungry, his movements fuelled by lust as he set himself upon her. The two were alone, the garden deserted as he moved closer to her, taking her head in his hands, and enveloping her in a rough kiss against her soft pink lips. She was dizzy, a victim to her desire as she fell into his embrace, their kiss deepening as the world around them faded to black.

That was when their hands began to come into play, when they became desperate for more contact, desperate to fill their senses with every part of their partner. Her hands found his chest, his waist, his hips, and his hands found every part of her, travelling down her neck, her breasts, her stomach, down to their usual resting place on the curve of her backside.

“You know,” He whispered in her ear as he began to massage the soft muscle. “There’s an empty, unused cupboard over there.”

“Are you serious?” She laughed, her laughs intermingled with sighs as he continued his assault. “You want to do it in a cupboard?”

“What? It will be fun,” He said, throwing her a crooked smile he knew she couldn’t resist. “And I don’t want to wait, do you?”

“Alright,” She giggled again, before allowing herself to be led to the cupboard he’d set his eye on. It was a surprisingly large cupboard and, he was right, it hadn’t been used since the Inquisition had taken Skyhold. But, mercifully, it wasn’t empty, it contained an old, dusty desk that was just the right height for her to perch on, and the right height so that he could easily slip between her legs and come face to face with her again.

This time, their kisses were mixed with a desperate attempt to rid each other of their clothes. She clawed blindly at his shirt, thank the Maker he had taken off his armour earlier today, whilst he undid hers with practiced hands until she was exposed to the cold air with just her undergarments to shield her. He launched at her newly exposed skin with a renewed fervour, his lips and teeth trailing across the freckled skin and down to the curve of her breasts, her head thrown back as he towered over her.

His fingers began to move down to her waist, her thighs, before she felt them pull at the fastenings on her trousers, grasping at the waistband as he went to rid her of her last piece of clothing.

Then the door opened.

Grasping at what little clothes she had left, she turned to look at their intruder with her mouth agape, her eyes wild as the person began to spoke.

“Oh, Maker,” She heard Dorian sigh, his hand moving to cover his eyes as he turned away from the scene before him. “What the hell is this?”

“This…is…” She began slowly, ensuring that she was appropriately covered as Cullen turned away with his head in his hands. “Exactly what it looks like. I have no explanation for this.”

“I mean I’ve seen you guys kissing but I had no idea you’d crossed _this_ hurdle,” Dorian said, his shock turning to smug amusement as he raised and eyebrow at her, his lips curling into a twisted smirk.

“What are you doing going into empty cupboards anyway?” She rounded on him, trying desperately hard not to show her embarrassment.

“Oh, I was just looking for-“

“Hey, sweet cheeks,” A deep, booming voice from behind them interrupted his speech as a shadow fell upon the three of them, the dim light from outside becoming obscured by a large, shadowy figure. “You found us a nice place to settle down yet or am I just going to have to bend you over one of these walls?”

It was Dorian’s turn to look embarrassed, and Amelie’s turn to revel in shocked amusement. “So what’s this, then, Dorian?” She asked with a smile as she heard Cullen snicker in the shadows beside her. “Were you looking for a place to let off some steam?”

“How many people are in here?” The Iron Bull asked, his voice sounding far too excited. “What is this, a group session? I’m not complaining, by the way.”

“No!” Dorian, Amelie and Cullen all shouted at the same time, their sharp voices cutting through the darkness and echoing against the old stone walls.

“Oh nice, Cullen’s here too,” Bull said as he practically rubbed his hands with glee.

“No!” She cried again, waving him away with her hands. “Go and find your own cupboard.”

“Alright, boss,” Bull said, sounding like a child who had been denied their favourite dessert. “Come on, cutie,” He called to Dorian, as Amelie heard an audible slap of hand against butt cheek.

The two hurried off, slamming the heavy oak door behind them and leaving the room in almost darkness with the two of them still, silent, and unmoving. Seconds ticked by as the silence hung heavy over their heads, the only noises to be heard was the sound of their breathing, and the occasional wail of the wind as it tore through the gaps in the walls. Eventually, she sighed, tiring of the awkward silence and the undeniable tension in the room. “So,” She asked slowly, turning her head towards Cullen, who stood in the darkness next to her with his hand massaging the skin on his neck. “You want to carry on?”

“Yes,” He answered in an instant, marching back towards her to take her in his arms once again, where she fell at the mercy of his love, as she always did.


	7. Girls Night In (NSFW-implied)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is best read after the previous chapter (6), although it can be read independently

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warning for implied sexual content

“What's going here?” A male voice cut through the laughter and everyone stopped, staring at the intruder who stood in the doorway to Sera’s alcove, with his hand on his hips and his lips curling into an amused smile. Dorian.

“Truth or dare,” Sera told him as she lounged on the floor at the centre of her room on a heap of cushions, her hands curled around a tankard of cider. “It's her turn, she chose truth.” She said, pointing at Amelie as she leant against the latticed window with a glass of wine in hand and alcohol flushed cheeks that soon drained to a pale white as she stared at Dorian with wide, desperate eyes.

“Oh, has she?” Dorian smirked as he sauntered into the room, flopping himself down on the cushions in front of her and staring at her with a mischievous glare, his smile barely hiding his twisted agenda. “Well I think I’ve got a good one.”

“Go on then,” Cassandra goaded him from her seat against the wall, her body covered by a soft, thick blanket as she nibbled on sweets. 

“Ok, Inquisitor,” His smile grew as he turned on her, his fingers rubbing his chin in the image of a scheming politician. “How long have you been sleeping with Cullen?”

Josephine almost spat out her wine. Leliana dropped the fork she had been holding, smearing chocolate cake on the wooden floor. Vivienne and Cassandra looked at each other with eyes wide with shock, whilst Amelie hid her blushing face in her hands and Sera burst into a fit of giggle on the floor.

“You…” Sera began in between fits of giggles. “Did it...with Cullen?” She dissolved into giggles again, this time being joined by the rest of the women in the room, filling the room with a fresh wave of laughter. With only Dorian and Amelie remaining silent, her eyes narrowing as she glared at the smug Tevinter. 

“Well, are you going to answer?” He asked as the laugher began to subside, raising his eyebrows at her.

“Please, we _have_ to know how this came about,” Josephine said, leaning forward and resting her head in her hands, staring at Amelie intently. 

“Oh yes,” Cassandra purred. “Give us all the details.”

“Alright!” She cried, earning an excited cheer from everyone in the room, who all huddled forward so that the room felt much smaller than before, their eyes focused on her, and her alone. “I went to see him in his office one day.”

“Oh I love it already,” Cassandra sighed.

“Hush, dear,” Vivienne said, rolling her eyes. “We haven’t started yet.”

“How far back are we going?” Dorian asked her. “Is this before or after I saw you kiss on the battlements?”

“Well, I was going to start with that…” She told him, before taking a large sip of her wine. Maker, she was going to need it. “But you all know about that now.”

“Yeah get to the good stuff,” Josephine said, waving her hands to hurry her on. “We know about the Winter Palace too.”

“You do?” Amelie asked. She had no idea anyone had seen their dance but, obviously, they had. And apparently her business had been the hottest gossip amongst the inner circle. “Ok, so after the palace, I went to his office. He was giving out orders as usual, until he saw me watching, and he sent everyone out.”

“Oh,” Cassandra sighed again, her eyes melting as her face softened, a dreamy smile appearing on her lips. “Gazes meeting across a crowded room…”

“Anyway!” She interrupted, her voice becoming sharper as she threw Cassandra an irritated gaze, one which matched everyone else’s as they turned towards her. “So the room is empty, and we’re there kissing each other a bit more forcefully than usual, I’m being moved backwards towards his desk.” She paused to take a drink, revelling in the look of complete rapture on everyone’s faces. “And then he clears the desk.”

“You did it on his desk?” Sera cried, her mouth wide with shock as she let out an amused chuckle, her eyes wild as she shook her head. “This is so great.”

“What’s he like?” Josephine asked with a giggle. 

“I bet he’s soft as anything,” Leliana said. “Like a puppy.”

“Oh no,” Cassandra declared. “He’s a commander, and I bet he brings that to bed too.”

“Yes, but she _is_ his superior,” Vivienne argued, taking a sip of her wine. “And he would respect that. So I bet it’s _her_ giving the orders.”

“Guys…” She said, cutting through the roar of laughter erupting around the room. “Honestly you’re all so immature,” She sighed, leaning her head back against the window. “But Leliana is right, although I will be testing Vivienne’s theory in the near future.”

Laughter erupted throughout the room once again, infecting them all like a vicious plague and drowning out the raucous of the tavern. It seemed that nothing would tame them this time, their heads hiding in their hands or thrown into the soft fabric of the many pillows and blankets which were scattered around the room. And nothing did, until someone else showed up at the door.

“Inquisitor?” Cullen shouted above the ripple of laughter, his head poking around the door to be greeted by a room full of inquisitive faces, all turned to look at him in complete silence, before laughter erupted again, and various motions were made by Sera involving hands and hips.

She crossed the room, climbing over Sera who writhed on the floor with tears in her eyes. “What do you need?” She asked, trying to stifle the laughter that threatened to burst out.

“I just wanted to...go over some reports with you,” He said nervously, his eyes scanning the room full of hysterical girls, with Dorian sitting triumphantly in the centre of the chaos.

“Of course,” She said quietly, before turning back to the alcove. “Ladies!” She cried, silencing the laughter with a single word. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to cut this short. Duty calls.” She winked at them, inviting another wave of laughter which followed her and Cullen as she left the room and walked briskly away.

“They know, don’t they,” Cullen deduced, as one of the girls audibly whistled at the pair.

“Yeah, they do,” She sighed, letting out an exasperated chuckle as they slowed their pace, coming to a stop at the end of the walkway. “Cullen, what are you doing?” He had begun to retrace their steps, walking with his shoulders square as he returned to the alcove, poking his head through the door once again.

“Dorian,” She heard him say, in a far calmer manner than she expected. Maker, what the hell was he doing? “Bull was looking for you downstairs. Said something about a new silk scarf he’d brought? He said you’d know what he meant.”

A new wave of laughter erupted from the room as Dorian burst out of the door, running past Cullen and throwing her a venomous look framed by flaming red cheeks as she stood at the end of the walkway, her arms crossed, and her lips twisted into a smirk.

“Better hurry!” She called after him as he marched past. “Or all the good cupboards will be gone!”


	8. Get behind me!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warning for some implied sexual content

For once, she had felt no hint of anxiety about her trip to the Shrine of Dumat. If anything, she was excited. Excited for the chance to spend time with Cullen, riding side by side on the long trek to their location, catching glimpses over the crackling campfire, sneaking into each other's tents once the sun had set. She'd made a slip of judgement, however. She'd imagined it like a holiday, a pleasure trip. She'd not thought about battle.

They'd run into a small group of red Templars on their way to the shrine, a group that could be easily dispatched by her experienced team. She was used to dealing with them by now, a quick barrier for the group, and a blast of ice at the nearest one, just to make it even more breakable when she sliced it with her magic sword. Except this time, she didn't get the chance.

“Get behind me!” Cullen cried, placing himself in front of her and narrowly avoiding being hit by a blast of ice himself. He dispatched the Templar with relative ease, his sword clanging against metallic armour as he pounced on the foe over and over again until it collapsed before him. He stood there recovering, his face covered in blood, sweat gathering at his forehead, his chest rising and falling as he stared down at the body in front of him. All that, and she'd just stood there looking stupid.

“I'm sorry, what was that?” She asked him, a hand falling on her hips as she stared at Cullen, who only looked confused.

“What?” 

“I know what I'm doing, Cullen,” She said defiantly, dropping her staff so that the top dropped onto the stone floor with a thud. “I've done this hundreds of times now.”

“I know-"

“And I happen to specialise in barriers,” She continued. “If anything, I should be protecting you!”

“It's just a habit!” He said, walking over to where she stood and returning his sword to his sheath. “Maybe I worry about you.” His hand reached up to touch her face, stroking the soft skin of her cheek with the rough metal of his gauntlet. 

“You don't have to,” She told him, reaching up to grasp his hand in hers, stroking the cold metal as if it were his skin. 

“But I do,” He smiled, pulling her closer to him and reaching in for a kiss, his cold, soft lips pressing against hers, his smell overpowering her, calming her, easing her into his embrace. That is, until they were interrupted.

“Get a room, creeps!” Sera screamed behind them, forcing them to pull apart. As she dissolved into a fit of hysterical laughter, Amelie fired a tiny lump of ice at her feet, earning a ear piercing shriek.

“I don't know about a room,” Amelie told her and the rest of her companions, who all seemed to be leering at the two of them. “But we can get ourselves a tent?”

“Gross!” Sera cried, pulling a face.

And they did get a tent, of course they did. The battle had only been small, but it lit a fire in their hearts, spurning on their passion for one another as they shared one another's company on the old, rickety, camp bed, which was definitely a new experience. 

Afterwards, they cuddled together as usual, just a little closer than normal as they fought for space on the small cot. But that was ok, they liked to be close, their warmth comforting each other as they hid away from the cold night air. It meant they could hold each other, touch each other's skin or pay with each other's hair. Or whisper.

“Cullen,” She whispered, her voice barely audible.

“Yes, love?” He asked, looking down at her with gentle, loving eyes. 

“Thank you for protecting me,” 


	9. Wow- you look...amazing! (NSFW)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warning for explicit sexual content

“Wow- you look…” She’d been hit by his words almost as soon as he had walked in the room, his gaze falling on her with an eager intensity as she stood by the dressing table adjusting the fastenings on her dress. “Amazing.” His words were little more than a whisper, his mouth hardly moving as he stood watching her in almost stunned silence.

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” She admired his clothes, the not too fancy garb he had adorned especially for the event. Military style, of course, he was still commander of the Inquisition even at a dinner party with her parents. But it suited him, brought out his eyes, his weather worn skin, the prominent jaw lined with stubble. And Maker, she loved to see him dressed up.

“You think your parents will approve, then?” He asked sheepishly, adjusting the cuffs of his sleeves.

“So what if they don’t,” She said defiantly, turning her attention back to the mirror to adjust her hair. “We haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Are you sure?” He asked, his smile turning into a smirk as he looked her up and down. “I’m doing something wrong right now.”

“Save it for later,” She told him, throwing him a wink as she approached him, her hands resting on his chest as she looked into his golden eyes. “We have a dinner party to go to first.”

“I’ll try my best,” He said, leaning down to plant a slow, gentle kiss on her lips, a kiss which, even though it was small, caught her in a frenzy, leaving her breathless as she stood in his arms.

—–

“Have I told you you look amazing?” He asked her, his voice husky as he spoke against her exposed neck, towering over her as he had her pinned against the wall.

“Yes, you did,” She giggled as his breath tickled her neck. “But you can say it again if you like.”

“You’re beautiful,” He said, launching himself into a tirade of kisses on her neck, shoulders, chest. All the places where her skin was exposed fell victim to his fervour as he threw fresh compliments at her. “Gorgeous.” “Amazing.” “Sexy.”

She wanted to be rid of all the trappings, those that kept her skin from touching his. She wanted to tear off his military coat and the shirt underneath, and reveal his chest to her. She wanted to run her hand over him, stroke him, kiss him, flick her tongue over every inch of him. But he had other ideas. And, today, she wasn’t getting a word in.

“Let me see you Cullen,” She pleaded, her hands grasping at the fastenings of his coat. But he took her hands, removing them from his clothes and placing them at her side.

“No,” He said. His voice was gentle, but it was still a command, his eyes so intense that it was as if he were staring right through her. “I want to worship you tonight.”

He lead her over to the bed with a strong hand against her back. But he remained gentle, hovering over her as she sat herself down on the bed, continuing to stand above her as she watched him eagerly. Leaning down to meet her, he threw himself at her with a kiss on her lips, his hold strong, forcing her to lean back away from his imposing presence as she fell into his hold, his hands cradling her head in his.

But he didn’t linger there for long, he never did. He took to kissing her cheeks, her jawline, her earlobes, sending a shiver down her spine as his mouth pulled at the sensitive skin. Then it was her neck, exposed to him as she threw her head back, her breath becoming jagged, her eyes closed, her mouth agape.

He wanted to worship her and, well, he was.

Her dress was hiked up to her hips, his hands grasping at her thighs, massaging, soothing, stroking the soft skin, reaching up higher and higher until he was so so close…

It hit her with all the force of a wave crashing against a cliff face. He had always been good with his fingers, that was for sure, but today was something else. Perhaps it was the nature of it all, as she sat there in her formal dress with Cullen leaning over her in his own formal wear, the smell of alcohol on their breaths, their perfumes mingling in the air above them.

Or, perhaps it was the knowledge that they were doing this in her parents home, whilst they slept somewhere down the hall. The necessity of silence, fighting against the urge to cry out, call his name, swear, curse, plead, it all added to her desire even more and made her want to scream. More so when he dropped himself to his knees before her, and replaced his finger with his tongue.

How she didn’t cry out when she came, she had no idea. But, Maker, she liked being worshipped. Maybe one day she would have to repay him. But, for now, she relaxed into the soft bed beneath her, catching her breath as Cullen reemerged from beneath her skirts and slumped next to her.

“You’ve messed up your hair,” He muttered, tucking a loose strand of whispy red hair behind her ear.

“That’s your fault,” She laughed, watching him with tired eyes as he lounged next to her, his fingers absentmindedly stroking the skin on her cheek.

“Worth it,” He said softly, breaking into a crooked smile. “You still look amazing.”


	10. Living with 7 dogs

The sun was a beautiful shade of orange, the type of sunrise you only see in the middle of the countryside, unbroken by the towering spires of ancient castles or the murk of a low hanging fog over battered old homes. This wasn't Crestwood, or the Fallow Mire, or the bitter cold wastes of Emprise du Lion. This was the countryside, where the morning was heralded with elegant birdsong and the smell of animals filled the air. It was peaceful, at least it was most of the time.

With her eyes half open, she rolled onto her left side, flopping her arm over the snoring mass of Cullen that was asleep next to her. He grumbled in his sleep, slipping into her embrace with a snuffle and a sigh, only to be matched by an exasperated huff from the dog asleep at his feet. Maybe it was true what they said, that dogs did take after their owners. Or, the other way round.

“Cullen, it's morning,” She said softly, stroking the skin on his chest with her fingers.

“No,” He grumbled, his voice muffled by the soft down of his pillow. “Too early.”

“Come on!” She goaded him, tickling his skin with her delicate fingers as he struggled against her.

“No!” He said, his voice growing louder as he became more defiant. She sighed dramatically, rolling away from him and slumping back against her own pillow. At their feet, Leo sighed, looking up at her with big, sad eyes as they led on the soft covers in a silence that was only broken by the rumble of their stomachs.

“You're hungry too, huh?” She asked, crawling down the bed to stroke the soft belly of their dog. “It's alright,” She assured him. “I know how to wake him up.”

Crawling back up the bed with a somewhat awkward gait, she sat herself on Cullen with her legs astride, earning another grumble from him as he fought against the prospect of waking. Grabbing the pillow she had slept on with her single arm, she raised it over her head as high as she could without falling, and lowered it onto Cullens head with a smack.

“Ow!” Cullen cried, raising his hands above his head defensively as she assaulted him with the squishy feather down pillow. At the bottom of the bed, Leo added to the furore with a loud bark that could silence an army, his face burrowing into Cullens as he licked him into oblivion. “I'm awake, i’m awake!”

“Good morning,” She said, smiling at him sweetly as she held the pillow to her chest. “Did you sleep well?”

“I did until you woke me up,” He sighed, covering his face with his hands as he fought off the slobbering dog. “You'll pay for that.”

“Will I?” She asked, and she was glad she had. He threw her against the bed in seconds, pinning her down with his superior strength as the dog continued to hover around them with his sloppy face and snuffling nose. He was tickling her, kissing her, sending her into fits of hysterical laughter as their dog barked beside them. It was the definition of chaos, a chaos she would never have dreamed of years ago.

She didn't hear the door, all she felt was the weight of the world collapsing in on them all at once as everything descended into a whole new realm of chaos. Dogs were barking everywhere, yapping, yelping, jumping up and down on the mattress and climbing all over the two of them. There were three, no, four, five, six, seven. Seven dogs scurrying all over the bed, dogs as big as Leo, or as small as the cats at Skyhold, clambering on the covers or playing with one another, fighting over pillows or their shoes, or chasing each other amid the mountain of soft bedding. It was chaos, domestic, doggy chaos.

“Good morning!” A woman's voice called from the doorway, where Mia was leaning against the door frame with a smirk on her face. “If you didn't realise, everyone’s here.”

She looked at Cullen with a smile, she’d warmed to his family so much, with their unorthodox and slightly too familiar closeness. But he didn't share her happiness, he didn't smile, he looked horrified.

“Oh no,” She heard him mutter under his breath, before she realised why. A shriek emanated from the hallway outside their room, before a barrage of children ran into the room at full speed and launched themselves on the bed, threatening to wind the two in the process. But their frowns soon turned to smiles, and they fell into the excitement of it all soon enough as they always did when they came to visit.

It was a chaotic life, seven dogs on top of a young family, but she could probably live with it, she decided.

 

 


	11. When I'm with you, nothing hurts anymore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warning for lyrium withdrawal and major angst

She always knew when it had been a bad day. Everyone did, to some extent. When they saw the commander storming round the keep with a scowl, when he barked orders at everyone he went by, when he slung baseless threats at those who failed him, they knew it had been a bad day. But they never knew why. She always thought that the rest of the keep just presumed that that was how he was, or that he had drunken too much the night before and woke up with a throbbing head and a queasy stomach.

But they didn’t know him like she did. They didn’t know the war he fought with his mind, his body, his demons. But she did. She knew it all.

So when he brought a storm to their war table meeting that morning, she knew it was a bad day.

Once all the meetings were over. Once all her paperwork was done and dinner had been served and cleared, she made her way to his office. She didn’t bother to knock, she knew he probably wouldn’t hear it anyway, instead she crept into the office, tiptoeing into the candlelit room where Cullen worked. Except he wasn’t working. He wasn’t even moving. When she went in, all she saw was that he lay with his face down against the desk, his head crushed beneath his large hands which clawed at his scalp, his fingers burrowed into the thick blonde hair.

As soon as she saw him slumped over his desk, she ran to him, skidding to a halt in front of his desk and collapsing down on the cold stone floor so hard that her knees throbbed with pain. But that didn’t matter, not to her.

“Cullen?” She cried, her hands reaching out to grab his as she tried to pry them from his hair. “Cullen? What’s happened?”

He looked up at her, raising his head ever so slightly off of the wooden desk. His eyes were red, blood red, and filled with the tears of a desperate man. “It hurts,” He whispered, his voice jagged, his words choked by pain, his breath stilted by the quiver in his lips.

“What hurts?” She asked, her words a whisper as she sat a hair breath away from his face, her hands stroking his damp, sweat ridden hair.

“Everything,” He whimpered, straightening himself up so that he was almost standing as he looked at her with wide, pitiful eyes. She moved around the desk, drawing herself closer to him with slow, deliberate steps. Until he practically ran at her, burrowing his face into her shoulder and almost crushing her with the weight of his arms around her torso. “My body, my head, _my head_. Maker.. _.I can’t_ …”

“Yes you can!” She said, pulling back from his embrace and staring at him with an intense glare. “You are not giving in.”

“But-”

“No! I won’t let you,” She ordered. “What you need is to go to bed.”

“I have work-”

“Someone else can do it,” She shrugged, taking Cullen’s cold, clammy hand in her own as she marched towards the ladder in the corner of the room. “After you.”

She watched him as he scaled each rung of the ladder with immense care, his feet clumsily feeling for each step as he ascended to his loft space inch by inch until, finally, he reached the top, safely, and with no major accidents. Climbing up after him, she was soon face to face with him again as he stood, pale and sweaty, with an uncontrollable shake to his limbs that could be seen even through the thick layers of armour that clung to his body.

Slowly, she approached him, reaching out to grasp the various straps and clasps which held his armour in place. It was always a struggle, undressing him, but it was worse when he was like this; there was no hope of a helping hand or an encouraging smile. All she got was a blank stare that wasn’t even directed at her, his gaze focused intently on the wooden floor at their feet as his body swayed left, right, his eyes blinking as he struggled to keep his mind here, with her.

As soon as she had finished, she encouraged him to walk towards the bed, his feet dragging against the old floorboards as he forced his weak body to move. But once he was there, it was easy, his head almost fell onto the cushions, his face burrowed in the soft feather down with his eyes shut tightly, blocking out the faint light of the candle. He led like this for some time, with the occasional moan or whine escaping his lips as she dragged herself onto the bed next to him. He stayed like that for some time, and she watched him, her fingers stroking the skin on his back, drawing small circles with her fingertip or tracing his battle scars with her thumb. But soon, his body stopped shaking, his muscles relaxed, and he uncurled himself from his ball and shuffled over to her, his head coming to rest on her stomach, his arms curling around her body, his nose burrowed in the leather of her coat.

“Feeling better?” She asked, her words faint as she whispered into the curls on his head, where her head had come to rest and her fingers played with the damp strands of hair.

“Yeah,” He sighed, his voice heavy with fatigue. “You make everything better. When I’m with you, nothing hurts anymore.”

“Good,” She whispered, planting a kiss on his scalp. “Go to sleep, and I’ll be here when you wake up.”

And sure enough, he did, and she made sure that, when he did wake, she was still there.


	12. Catch them before they fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning for implied sexual content

Their arrival at the Winter Palace was accompanied by the staging of an extravagant feast, where all her companions sat along a long table piled high with food, laughing, joking, and sharing stories of the last two years. But soon, the food was cleared, the tables pushed to the side, and musicians began to play, heralding the start of the dancing. She didn’t mind dancing, it could be fun, at times, but the cheers of the crowd as they goaded her into the centre of the room filled her with a sense of dread. Thankfully, they did the same to Cullen, and it was him who shared her moment of embarrassment in front of their party. But it all went smoothly, and they came out of the whole experience relatively unscathed, somehow.

In fact, it went so well that when the party ended, and they had filled themselves with a good amount of alcohol, they decided to recreate it in their rooms. As soon as she shut the door to their room, he wheeled around, bowing low with his left arm extended.

“Would you allow me the pleasure another dance, Lady Inquisitor?” He asked, his voice an unconvincing imitation of the Orlesian drawl they had been subjected to all evening. 

“Oh Mr Rutherford!“ She cooed, taking his hand and feigning a swoon, her left hand fluttering against her chest as she collapsed against him. “I would be honoured beyond measure.”

“My lady,” He murmured, turning her to face him and taking her in his arms, his hand resting on her waist as he began a shuffling, awkward dance. “I am the one who should be honoured, having the chance to dance with such a beautiful woman.”

“Mr Rutherford, you humble me,” She said, her lips stretching into a smile as she stifled a laugh. “To catch the eye of such a beautiful, sexy, rugged-”

They dissolved into a fit of giggles, their heads coming forward to rest on their partner as the laughter escaped them in desperate bursts. She pulled away from his embrace, the laughter dragging her away from his hold as she leant over with her hands on her hips. But almost as soon as she stepped away from him, her left foot gave way, the heel of her shoe collapsing under her as her ankle twisted. She cried out in pain as she fell but, luckily, strong arms were there to catch her, pulling her back to her feet and holding her as she stood with her foot in the air.

“Amelie? Are you alright?” He asked, his tone sincere as he looked down at her.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” She said, before she dissolved into more giggles. “You know how clumsy I am.”

“Oh yeah,” He agreed, his breath escaping in a chuckle as he held her steady. “You’re also a bit drunk.”

“Only a little bit,” She told him, emphasising her words with her fingers as she held them a hair breadth apart. “And you are, too!”

“I know,” He said, before leaning down to kiss her lips, a kiss which evolved into a slow, drawn out caress, their alcohol ridden breaths intermingling as they smothered each other’s lips with their own. Pulling away, he gave her a quick, warm smile, before reaching down to place an arm behind her knees. “Come on, let’s get you to bed.”

“Cullen!” She cried as he lifted her off of her feet and marched over to the bed with her body splayed out in his arms. 

“Maker, you’re heavy,” He said, before a nudge of her elbow to his chest made him cry out. “I didn’t mean it like that!”

“I should hope not!” She scoffed as he placed her gently down onto the bed, laying her legs out gently on the soft down. “Otherwise no fun for you tonight.”

“Forgive me, my lady!” He cried, clambering on top of her and trapping her with his legs, his strong thighs imprisoning her to the bed. Looking down on her, he moved his mouth to her exposed neck, taking the skin in his mouth and enveloping her with his lips. “I am a cruel man.”

He brought himself up to her lips, collapsing himself against her as they descended into a frantic frenzy of kisses, their bodies moving in perfect synchronisation as they worked against one another. Driven by need, their kisses soon evolved into much, much more.

That night was a beautiful mix of alcohol, laughter, and passion. And the next morning, to her surprise, he asked her to marry him.


	13. I'm Sorry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warning for heavy angst

She brought the meeting to an end with a scream. It was a scream that was biting and cold, one which pierced the eardrums with a high pitched roar and tore the heart in two. It was a scream of pain, anger, desperation as she fought against the spasms of energy that shot through her hand and up her arm, reaching into her chest like the tendrils of a vine reached into the crumbling ruins of an ancient tower. But it was a fight she knew she couldn’t win.

Either the Vidasaala would kill her, or her hand would.

But while she stood with her hand clenched into a shaking fist and her arm drawn to her chest, she forgot that she wasn’t alone. Through a veil of tears, She saw a shape approach her, a blur of vibrant red marred with a hint of blue. She didn’t even have time to think, nor the energy, but as soon as his arms were enveloped around her and her head drawn into his chest, she knew, and fear turned to desperate, choking sobs that spilled out in salty tears upon his finally tailored suit.

“I’m sorry,” She whispered into the fabric of his coat, her words strangled by the ache in her heart as she clung desperately to to her husband’s chest, her fingers digging into his stiff red coat as the wave of pain began to pass, to be replaced instead by a pang of guilt that pierced her heart and brought the tears a renewed sense of purpose. “I should have told you,” She said, burrowing her nose into his coat and inhaling the familiar scent that clung to his clothes. “I’m sorry,”

He shushed her as he stroked her hair, his fingers working through the tangles of burnt red at the base of her neck. But she couldn’t stop, the apologies flowed out of her just as readily as the tears fell down her face. And soon, he stopped holding her, stroking her, soothing her with the gentle hush of his soft voice. He pulled away, holding her out in front of him as he looked down into her tear filled eyes.

“You don’t have to be sorry,” He told her, his hands reaching up to stroke the tear stained skin on her cheeks, his thumb carefully brushing against her skin as he wiped away her tears. “You never have to be sorry, for anything.”

“I should have told you-”

“Please, just…” He sighed, his eyes fluttering to a close momentarily as he held her face in his hands, before he looked down at her again with eyes red with sorrow, his lip quivering as he attempted a shaky smile. “Please don’t be sorry.”

She understood it, then. He looked down at her as her soul shattered piece by piece and she succumbed to the inevitable fate that lay in front of her, her shaking hand breaking both of their hearts bit by bit. He didn’t want to spend his last moments with her whilst she cried and sobbed and apologised. And, in reality, neither did she.

She threw him a smile, a smile that appeared to disarm him. Returning it to her with ease, he leaned forward ever so slightly, pulling her into a gentle kiss that reminded her of all those times they had kissed before. On the battlements at Skyhold, on her balcony as they watched the sunset, at their wedding in the gardens of the palace surrounded by beautiful, blooming flowers in all colours and sizes. But there was something different about this one. His lips were as soft as ever, but their kiss stung with the bitterness of their sorrow, her lips salty against his as they moved together as one.

Actions speak louder than words, they always said, and this kiss said to him that she was sorry far more times than her voice ever could. But underneath it all, there was the ecstasy of his presence, the gentle, soft, nature of his forgiveness, and the knowledge that, when her time came, she would not be alone.


	14. A Kiss to Distract

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place post-trespasser so expect endgame spoilers

Ever since the Exalted Council had come to a close, and the fate of her Inquisition had been decided, she had found herself buried beneath piles and piles of paperwork. It was ironic, really, that reducing the powers of her organisation could lead to even _more_ paperwork than before. But it had to be done, and it had to be _her_ that did it. 

She had been offered clerks and assistants from the Divine, and Josephine had offered her help, of course. But she had refused. The Inquisition was her organisation, these people worked for her, and if they were to be sent away, or have their integrity questioned, then it should be by her hand. Or, rather, the hand that was left.

They all told her that she should spend her days recovering, lying in a comfortable bed while servants brought her food and her friends fussed over her. But what was there to recover from? Her hand was gone, lying in a bed wasn’t going to bring that back, nor was it going to qualm the ravaging pains that shot up through the skin of what remained of her arm as it desperately tried to find its missing parts. 

So, instead, she distracted herself with work, throwing herself into the piles of parchment that signed off her powers and gave back their lands, her quill flying over the paper with her well practised signature signing off their demise piece by piece. It was awkward, of course, writing with one arm, but it was one of the only things she had, as of yet, somewhat remastered.

“Are you going to come to bed at any point?” A voice called to her from the bed behind her, snapping her out of her trance and forcing her to look up from her paperwork and glance behind her, where Cullen had put down his book and was staring at her from beneath the covers, his large, lumbering dog asleep at his feet. 

“I’m sorry,” She smiled briefly, before turning back to the papers at her desk. “But there’s just so much to do, we have all these people who have followed us for years and we have to write to them all and tell them we no longer need them, and how I am meant to do that without sounding rude is beyond me!” Her voice was becoming more high pitched, more erratic, as she stared down at the page in front of her, her hand running through her hair as the words began to swim in front of her eyes. “And then there’s all the people who have become suspects as agents of Fen’Harel I mean, how are we even-”

She was cut off by the sensation of strong, gentle arms wrapping themselves around her chest followed by the rough scratch of stubble brushing against her neck as she felt the him plant soft, delicate kisses on her skin. 

“Cullen, what are you doing?” She asked with a sigh as she relaxed back into his hold. 

“I’m distracting you,” He said, pulling himself away so that he could rest his head on her shoulder. “Because you work too much now, it worries me.”

“That’s because I need to,” Her shoulders slumped as she leant into his embrace, her head falling to the side to rest against his. “Everything is changing, and that requires a lot of paperwork.”

“You’re worried,” He sighed, drawing her closer into his hold. 

“I’m not…”

“You are,” He moved away, pulling out of their embrace before walking around her chair to stand in front of her, where he leaned down and held her head in his hands, stroking the skin on her face with smooth, delicate movements of his fingers. “You worry too much.”

“I just don’t know what’s going to happen,” She sighed again, her gaze dropping from his and falling onto the pile of parchment sat on the desk behind him. 

“Everything is going to be fine,” He told her, his voice soothing as tucked her hair behind her ear, smoothing the strands of vibrant red with his thumb. “You’ve still got me.” He reminded her, his lips spreading into a smile as she let out a stifled chuckle.

“Yeah, you’re a good distraction from it all,” She said, raising her hand to cover his as it stroked the hair behind her ear, her fingers covering his as she sought comfort in the weather worn skin that carried with it a single gold wedding band, a reminder to her that he was right, she still had him, her husband, her partner, her soulmate. “I love you,” She whispered, her eyes closing as she relaxed into his touch.

“I love you too,” He smiled down at her, before reaching down to plant a kiss on her soft lips, a kiss which brought comfort to her, brought her away from the paperwork and the Inquisition and the threat of not only war, but the end of everything they knew. For a minute, she forgot about it all, distracted from all her duties by her husband and the kisses which still made her heart feel warm and her head feel as light as and clear as the air above Skyhold. For a minute, she was lost in the comfort of his presence, stilled and silent in his arms as her worries washed away from her. For a minute, she really did think that everything was going to be ok. 


End file.
